


Rough and Tumble

by MirandaShepard_93



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Castis is a big softie, Consensual Non-Consent, F/M, Inappropriate gun pointing, Panty ripping, Roleplay, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, authority kink, but he's not very good at it, con non-con, good wholesome smut, he tries, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:41:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23634019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MirandaShepard_93/pseuds/MirandaShepard_93
Summary: A little PWP to brighten up the lockdown.After an argument, Y/N needs to get away from Castis. He has a different idea, though.
Relationships: Castis Vakarian & Reader, Castis Vakarian/Reader
Comments: 10
Kudos: 47





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheWeirdDane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWeirdDane/gifts).



Choras Den wasn't your favourite place on the Citadel, but it was one of the few places you could think of to hide from Castis. He was too straight-laced to come here for pleasure, and since Fist was ousted it's been quiet. Nursing the bright blue drink the bartender had placed before you, you let the thumping music soothe you. It wasn't like you to argue with each other, not really. Castis is a good man; he treats you well, understands and accommodates your differences, cares about your needs and wants. He puts you first. But there are some things that you can't agree on; as an investigative journalist, you need to bend the rules to find the truth... and Castis, well, he's a do-good man. Straight as a razor. 

You often joke that you represent the only rule he's broken; when he saved your life from the gang you infiltrated, he shouldn't have taken you to dinner afterwards. He certainly shouldn't have seduced you, but the attraction was undeniable. Since then you've managed to step around each other professionally... you sigh and down the drink, motioning for another. 

You never should have asked Garrus to help you dig up dirt on Helena Blake. One of the Asari dancers slips by, hand slithering down your shoulder, 

"I have a story for you," she whispers, and places two drinks in front of you, "one is from the guy at the bar." She says with a smile, "I told him you already bought one, but he insisted." You turn to look; a Turian at the bar raises his hand, one mandible lifting in a lopsided grin. You raise your hand in return, but shake your head and push it to the edge of the table. 

Once Castis has had time to calm down, once you've had time to gather your thoughts, you'll go to him and you can talk it out. Hopefully. Until then, Choras Den is your haven; he'll be at your door, waiting for you. Your stomach clenches. Unless he's not, you think, unless he's already cutting you out. 

"Did I go too far?" You ask no-one in particular, 

"That really depends," the voice shocks you back into reality. The Turian from the bar is smiling at you, just far enough away to be polite, "what did you do?" Now that he has your attention he sits. He's young enough to think his cockiness is attractive, drunk enough to be unashamed of his forward behaviour. You down the first drink and look him in the eye, 

"I went behind my boyfriends back to ask his son to help me investigate a dangerous criminal drug lord," you say, and tilt your head to gauge his reaction. To his credit, he just grins, 

"You might have."

"They're both C-Sec officers," you add, "the son works with Commander Shepard."

He laughs, 

"Wow, yeah, you might have fucked up..." he leans forward, "your boyfriend mad?"

"Very."

"Shame," he says and flicks his mandible, "still... he's not here, you should forget about it and have fun." The audacity makes you snort and shake your head, but his smile is full of so much mischief that all you can do is laugh. 

In hindsight, it would have been better to tell him to leave immediately. But he kept talking, and the distraction made the painful churning in your stomach less painful. And he was funny, in that distinctly Turian kind of way; dry, witty, and oozing confidence. He leaned back, resting an elbow on the high wall of the booth and tilted his head to the side, 

"We should get out of here."

"You can do what you damn well please," you reply, "I'm not going anywhere with you." 

"Why not? We're having fun... aren't we?" He asks, almost sounding hurt. It's a ploy, of course. 

"No, you're making a fool of yourself and it's amusing me." You motion for another drink. This time the hurt on his face is real, he stands, 

"Is that right?" He's calm, but somehow it puts fear into you, 

"Yes," the voice that comes from behind you soothes and frightens you in equal measure. Castis folds his arms, "Tarik Jergen, isn't it? I think you have an outstanding warrant." 

"No idea what you're talking about," Tarik sneers and walks away with a single, sharp look over his shoulder at you. Castis slides to his place, face inscrutable. He orders a drink with subtle raise of a finger and the silence, such as it is with the music blaring, drags out between the two of you. People are looking, of course, at the youngish human in a short, sparkling dress and the veteran Turian detective in full uniform. Looking at the strange spectacle the two of you make in the Den. Castis finishes his drink in one and sighs, 

"Let's go." He stands, and you can't quite understand why you follow him out into the wards. By the time you reach the crossroads you're too angry to speak; you turn down an alley without a word. Three heart beats before he realises you're not behind him. Maybe more. It's unthinkable to him that you wouldn't follow his lead. Detective Vakarian knows best, after all. 

"Y/n!" He calls and you hear his heavy footsteps as he rushes to catch up with you; the three-fingered hand that grabs your wrist is like iron. Wrenching free costs you a layer of skin. Maybe two, 

"What? What is it Castis?" Your voice is starting to climb. You're about to become one of those couples who scream in the street, and you don't know how to stop it, 

"You're being foolish-"

You push him, 

"You're being an asshole," you snap, "you can't even give me a few hours to calm down?"

"Calm down?" He laughs, "Is that what you call it?"

"Oh fuck off."

The force of him, barrelling the two of you into the wall, takes your breath away. He looks more alien than ever in the gloom, but he's never felt more human. The divide between you, made up of species, culture, and age, shrinks to nothing when all you can see is the gleam of his eyes and all you can feel is his heat. You struggle against his grip, but he's too strong. He doesn't push back, doesn't move. Just stands immobile until you tire yourself out, and while you want to scream... it makes a sticky, shameful heat bubble and seep between your legs. He shivers, almost imperceptibly, and draws in a breath, making you burn with shame. 

"I see..." he draws the last word out in a way that makes you think there's something dangerous under that do-right exterior. That there's a difference between Officer Vakarian and Castis. You squirm to get a better look at him, flushing when you feel him against your stomach, pressing gently. He pulls your wrists over your head, holding them in one broad hand, and runs a hand down your body, skimming over your breast, waist, hip, 

"Castis, what are you-"

"That's Officer Vakarian to you," he mutters, and leans in to speak into your ear, "and I'm making sure you don't have a weapon."

Your breath catches in your throat... this little game is new. Castis doesn't do this. Until now it's been gentle, soft... vanilla. Missionary, always careful to avoid hurting you. Not this. 

"Why would I have a weapon?" You ask, "I'm a journalist, Officer." His eyes flick to you, and his mandible twitch as he smiles, 

"Can't be too careful," he whispers and reaches under your dress, gripping your ass firmly. You whimper and squirm, "shh, don't get excited, girl," he whispers and tilts his head as a flash of the Castis you recognise peeks through, "is this... ok?"

"Yes." You nod, knees shaking, and the Castis you know slips back behind the mask. The hand pushes between your legs, roughly, making you whine and squirm, 

"You won't find a weapon there," you say through your teeth, and he snorts, 

"Don't you worry about that." He looks you in the eye, slips your underwear to the side, and pushes a finger into you roughly, "I found what I'm looking for." You let your head fall back, biting your lip as he massages your clit with his thumb, "I found exactly what I'm looking for," he murmurs again and draws in a breath, "and it looks like you have too."

"No," you shake your head, heart hammering

"Yes," he says, mildly, as if amused, "I found a filthy little whore skulking around where she shouldn't be."

"I'm not a whore." You gasp, eyes stinging, 

"Then why are you so wet?" He asks, directly in your ear, making your skin tingle and crawl as the hairs on your neck raise and your eyes roll back. You moan as he pushes harder, fingers working magic. Suddenly he stops, "if you need to stop," he whispers, "ask for my badge number." You nod,

"Yes?"

"Yes."

"You understand?"

"If I want to stop, I ask for your badge number," you pant and he grins,

"Good girl," he rumbles and wraps his free arm around your waist, lifting you to eye level, 

"Ca- Officer, don't you think it's a bad idea to conduct this business in public?" You ask, and he tilts his head.

"Probably," he mutters, "but I think you like it... and I think you'll do what I say if you don't want to conduct this business in an interrogation room in handcuffs."

"Dirty fucking-"

"What?" He shakes you, voice dropping until it's almost feral, making you shiver and squeeze his waist with your thighs, 

"Yes, sir." You pant and he nods, 

"Good girl." Using his weight to hold you against the wall, he slips his hand back under your dress and drags your thong away with a sudden jerk. Over his shoulder, the alley is bright and empty. The shadows you inhabit are small and dense, but anyone could see you if they stopped to look properly. He thrusts into you in a single, jerking move that takes your breath away. He stretches you to capacity, making you pant and gasp. Gritting your teeth you squirm and kick your feet; one shoe slips away and clatters to the ground as Castis hooks his elbow under your knee to heft your weight, "having a good time?" He murmurs, rolling his hips slowly. When he lets your hands go, you wrap your arms around his neck and press your face into his shoulder, 

"Fuck-" Raucous laughter breaks the moment; Castis backs away and smoothes your skirt in one fluid motion, dropping to one knee to slip your shoe back on. 

"Let's go," he says it calmly, but the hoarse crackle in his voice makes you think that he's feeling this just as much as you are. How you make it to the rapid transport terminal without being seen you're not sure, but once the car doors close his hand is on your thigh again. 

"Where are we going?" You bite your lip, heart hammering, 

"I'm taking you home," Castis says, 

"So I'm free to go, Officer?" You turn to look at him, see the amusement flicker over his face, chased by lust, 

"I didn't say that."


	2. Chapter 2

Between the car and your apartment door, Castis is silent. The sensation of being too close to a frustrated predator is overwhelming; the low, rolling rumble that emanates from him as you near your door makes your groin throb and pulse. You raise your chin and try to summon what defiance you have left and turn on your heel just before the door,

"I do not consent to your entering my home, Officer," you say, "you have no reason to-"

"Shut up," Castis says mildly, contrasting his calm words with a sudden, sharp shove that sends you sprawling as the door opens with a wave of his omni-tool. You knew giving him access to your door was the right choice. You hit the floor, breath leaving you in a wave, skirt flying up, legs splayed. The door closes behind him and locks with a beep. From your position on the floor, he looks a foot taller than he is if that's possible, and his badge catches the blue glow from the fish tank. His gun doesn't; C-sec issue weapons are matte. But you know its there, and your eyes flick to where it sits. Castis tilts his head to the side a little, looking at you from the side of his eye with something like a sneer, but his eyes are warm, "you remember what I said?"

"Yes."

"Y/N?"

"Ask for your badge number," you say and he lowers his head, rolling his wrist to signal for more, "ask for your badge number if I want out."

"Good girl."

It shouldn't make you weak at the knees, but it does. So does the way that he disappears behind that mask once more. You make a show of pulling your dress down to cover yourself. The realisation that your thong is still lying somewhere in the alley near Choras Den sends a little fizz of electricity through your stomach. There's a tension between you like a violin string pulled taut; when you shuffle backwards he seems pulled forward. When he steps towards you, you scuttle back like a hunted animal until you hit the sofa, 

"This is police harassment, I will no-"

"You will do what you're told, Miss Y/L/N," Castis says and puts his hands on his hips, "you were found in a place of known criminal activity. You were talking to a known criminal. You are an accessory-"

"To nothing-"

"To whatever I decide," he cuts you off calmly, 

"You son of a bitch," you say, but your heart is hammering and you're getting wetter by the second, "fucking dirty cop." He shrugs and spreads his hands, 

"That may be true, miss, but it doesn't change your position, now, does it?" That ineffable calm that you've seen him bring to bear on criminals and angry relatives has always been endearing to you. You've wondered how he survived so long in the shark tank of the Citadel. You've wondered if he used to be like Garrus when he was in his 20s. As Castis tugs his trouser legs up slightly to kneel, always neat and precise, you understand that its far more threatening than any amount of anger could be. 

"No, I suppose not," you whisper and he nods, 

"Good, so we understand each other," he says and reaches out to trace a finger over your ankle bone, "you'll do what you're told because you allowed yourself to be outmanoeuvred." You nod. "Excuse me?"

"Yes." You say, and though your voice is hoarse, it's lust, not fear. He stands, but when you start to stand he shakes his head, 

"No, I like you there. Stay there." He prowls around your apartment, running his hands over things as if he's never seen them before. When he comes back into view, he sighs, 

"I never understood the fascination with human women until I saw you," he says and you think that this might be the truth. It makes your heart skip, just a little, "you're all so soft, so delicate, so... brazen. It's like you evolved just to torment men, your own that is, and it's worked well for you." He pulls out a dining chair and sits. "Unfortunately for you, that unique quality does not work on me." You can't help but snort, 

"That why you couldn't resist fucking me in the street? Or do you just lack all control, _sir?"_

"Why would I resist when you made it so easy?" He tilts his head back and laces his hands together, "after all... we're having fun, aren't we?"

"We are," you say, then nod to reassure him. Castis smiles back, 

"Good." He takes off his badge, places it face down on the table, then takes off his gun. You find your eyes drawn to it, Castis notices of course. He notices everything. "Come here... No... crawl." You do, face burning, stomach fluttering. He holds the gun out, grip facing you, "go on." It's heavy in your hands, makes your shoulder ache as you point it at him, heart hammering against your ribs. "Funny how a weapon makes you feel less in control, not more... am I right?" 

You nod, and he takes it back without hesitation, places it on the table beside his badge.

"Why don't you come sit on my lap." It's not a question. 

"Fuck you."

"Exactly," he grins, 

"I will not."

"You will."

"No," you say and cross your arms, fighting the urge to smile, "you can make me submit, _officer,_ but you can't make me participate." 

"The safety is on," he says quietly before lifting the gun again. Despite his reassurance, your blood runs cold before the flush of fever takes over, "I can, and I will," he says, then shifts in the seat, "so... why don't you sit on my lap, and we can keep having a good time?"

Suddenly the tension breaks, and you laugh nervously, 

"Jesus, Castis, have you always been this scary or did you change in the last four hours?" You ask, and cover your mouth, giggling. He laughs and puts the gun down, rubs his face, 

"Have you always had a thing for weaponry, or did that hatch in the past four hours?" He counters as you slip into his lap,

"I like it as a part of the wider uniform... in my face, not so much."

"That's fair," he nods and brushes some hair out of your face, 

"Sorry," you whisper, "I ruined the mood."

"No... I'm - well, I'm not sure I'm up to playing the... that part anyway," he says with a grimace and you nod, pressing your forehead to his, 

"How about the part of angry boyfriend who has a right to be pissed off but feels bad about flying off the handle and wants to smooth things over with rough sex?" 

"That... um, well," he stutters a little and laughs, "that part I could play _very_ convincingly."

"Hop to it then, detective," your words tail off into a squeal as he stands suddenly, taking you with him. You don't make it to the bedroom, of course. Just as far as the couch, where he puts you on your feet, spins you, and takes a handful of your hair, 

"Bend over," he murmurs it, but somehow it still feels like an order. Castis sighs as he pulls your skirt up, runs his hand over your hips, pushes a finger into you, "you're not going to involve my family in your investigations again, are you?"

"No," you gasp, knees shaking, hands balling into fists as he teases you, 

"Good girl," he says, and takes his hand away, letting you whine before bringing his palm down on your ass three times in quick succession, "that's about as much punishment as I have energy for," he says, and this time the smile is in his voice. You nod and gasp as he grips your hip and pushes back into you again, whining at the sudden intrusion. You bite back a moan as he reaches around to rub quick, deft circles on your clit with one hand. You can't stop the gasps and whines that slip out when he starts to thrust hard and fast; there's nothing tender about this. He _is_ angry. With his free hand, Castis takes a handful of your hair and pulls, making your eyes roll into your head. Even as your neck begins to ache, the position takes its toll, and your hips throb, the feeling in the pit of your stomach starts to break. This orgasm doesn't come suddenly; it seems to feed on itself, making your eyes water and your knees shake even as you make the most pathetic sounds. You barely hear the jagged groan that leaves him when he finishes. 

"Are you ok?" The words come clear, cutting through the afterglow, 

"Yes," you nod, 

"Are... we ok?" He asks and helps you to your feet, 

"I think so..." you say, "do you think so?"

"I do... we know where the boundaries are, now."

"We do." You wobble, legs still shaking, and let him hug you. 

"Shower?"

"Absolutely."


End file.
